


At Least Not the Sweet Kind

by orphan_account



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Eddie is the assertive one, Fluff, M/M, Richie can't write poetry, Richie is a disaster bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-11 23:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Richie is trying to write Eddie a poem or a song, and he's failing abysmally. Fortunately, Eddie doesn't hold that against him.





	At Least Not the Sweet Kind

"Everyone knows....I like...your....woes? Ugh, no. " Richie crumpled the already-rumpled piece of paper that he had been scrawling on, disgusted with his lack of poetic talent. Maybe Richie was no whiz-kid, but that didn't mean he was a total simpleton. He was actually pretty good with words...gross ones, anyway. His ribs were probably permanently bruised from all of the times his friends had jabbed him for being too graphic. Apparently, 'sweet nothings', the sort of poetry that Ben wrote which always left Bev a giggling mess, simply alluded him, and he wasn't about to hand Eddie a copy of a poem that Ben had written for Bev. That would be weird, and probably not very fitting, considering the fact that Eddie and Bev both had very different...internal and external assets. 

Richie ran a hand through his perpetually-messy hair, exasperated. That train of thought was getting him nowhere. "Why am I such a disaster bi?" he muttered to himself. 

"Eh, it's kind of charming, I guess. When you aren't talking." Richie blanched, nearly losing his balance. He unfolded his legs from crisscross-applesauce and slid them under the bench, as if he had meant to move in the first place. Eddie merely watched in bemusement, clearly not buying the attempt to save face. He joined Richie on the bench, oblivious to the S.O.S. Richie's heart was frantically tattooing into his sternum. 

"See? I like this version of you. Awkward but sweet. Not trying to be something you aren't. Or making jokes about my mom." Eddie smiled. It took Richie a millennia, but he finally found his voice again. 

"Is it April Fools Day or somethin', Eds? Is that why you're being so nice? I mean, don't get me wrong-" A solid punch to the shoulder cut him off. Eddie glared. 

"DON'T ruin it by trying to be a Casanova. That's not you. Let's just say...I've seen you around, struggling to write lyrics or whatever. It's not exactly subtle when you're trying to find rhymes for my name that aren't spaghetti...in the middle of free period. You mumble pretty loud." Richie squeaked in mortification and Eddie broke into a fit of giggles. 

"Don't be embarrassed, it's cute. I appreciate the thought. Maybe you can save your final poem for our date. Okay?" Richie felt as if he had been effectively lobotomized. There was no way this was actually happening. 

"Richie?" Miraculously, Eddie was still sitting next to him, waiting for an answer. Frantically, Richie nodded. For once, words had entirely failed him. 

Well, that was okay. He didn't really do the sweet kind, and it had all worked out in the end, he thought distantly as Eddie leaned forward to plant a swift kiss on his nose, eyes gleaming with mischief. 

This boy was going to be the death of him, and he was weirdly at peace with the idea.

**Author's Note:**

> This was low-key inspired by Uh-Oh, a cute song by Junior Doctor.


End file.
